(no subject)
Aug. 16th, 2005 12:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
I got a wild hair up my ass this past Sunday and decided to clean out my bedroom closet, which was largely full of my mother's belongings. Earlier this year, I had donated all of her clothes, but there was still an enormous amount of stuff floating around the apartment that needed to be dealt with, most of it centralized in my bedroom closet.It took me about three hours and numerous de-pressurizing breaks, but it is now finished. And in doing so, I discovered many interesting things.
One of which is that my paternal grandfather was born in 1912. I found the mass card from his funeral, in 1979, stashed away in one of my mother's myriad purses. 1912? Holy fuck! In addition to that, I also found the mass cards for my maternal grandmother and grandfather's funerals, and the one for an aunt-by-marriage who died when I was in my twenties and still living in Philadelphia. They were all found in the same purse, so I'm guessing that was my mother's all-purpose funeral bag.
I also found a photograph of my maternal grandparents, taken when they were young. I'm not sure if they were married at this point, there was no date on the reverse, but they were standing on a porch with another young couple. All of them grinning and laughing into the camera, with my grandfather's arms around my grandmother's waist and one hand held in front of her face. It was strange to see them like that. The entire time I knew them, they had separate bedrooms and seemed like strangers to one another more often than not.
A pair of my baby shoes were in a box, along with several other pairs of what I'm guessing to be the shoes of my brothers. So tiny. And so amazing that they were once on my feet. My big fucking feet that don't fit the rest of my body. Little hands, big feet. 5'3 with a size 9 1/2 foot, who ever heard of that, I ask you?
All of these discoveries were interesting, but the most intriguing of them all was shoved all the way in the back, on the top most shelf. It was a long, thin piece of wood. About a foot and a half, maybe two feet, long and two inches wide. With three dowels placed in a seemingly random pattern and a many folded booklet shoved between the dowlels.
I had no clue what on earth this thing could be until I blew the dust from it and read the words printed on its surface.
Professional Bow Maker
...buh?
Many of you probably don't know this, but my mother wasinfamous famous for her present wrapping. She fucking excelled at it. All of the paper creases were sharply creased and perfectly aligned. The wrapping paper was immaculately matched to any ribbons involved in the package. And the bows? Oh, those fucking bows. I was always so jealous at how good she was at making those fancy bows.
You know the kind I mean? Big and flowery, many looped and delicate.
She would never let me watch her wrap presents or make those damn bows.
Now I know why!
I laughed, dusted the bow maker off, and put it back on the shelf. I'll most likely never use it, as my own present-wrapping is a rather haphazard affair. Usually done in the wee hours of the morning when I'm half-drunk or hastily slapped together before running out the door. But, I'll keep this thing. And remember.
One of which is that my paternal grandfather was born in 1912. I found the mass card from his funeral, in 1979, stashed away in one of my mother's myriad purses. 1912? Holy fuck! In addition to that, I also found the mass cards for my maternal grandmother and grandfather's funerals, and the one for an aunt-by-marriage who died when I was in my twenties and still living in Philadelphia. They were all found in the same purse, so I'm guessing that was my mother's all-purpose funeral bag.
I also found a photograph of my maternal grandparents, taken when they were young. I'm not sure if they were married at this point, there was no date on the reverse, but they were standing on a porch with another young couple. All of them grinning and laughing into the camera, with my grandfather's arms around my grandmother's waist and one hand held in front of her face. It was strange to see them like that. The entire time I knew them, they had separate bedrooms and seemed like strangers to one another more often than not.
A pair of my baby shoes were in a box, along with several other pairs of what I'm guessing to be the shoes of my brothers. So tiny. And so amazing that they were once on my feet. My big fucking feet that don't fit the rest of my body. Little hands, big feet. 5'3 with a size 9 1/2 foot, who ever heard of that, I ask you?
All of these discoveries were interesting, but the most intriguing of them all was shoved all the way in the back, on the top most shelf. It was a long, thin piece of wood. About a foot and a half, maybe two feet, long and two inches wide. With three dowels placed in a seemingly random pattern and a many folded booklet shoved between the dowlels.
I had no clue what on earth this thing could be until I blew the dust from it and read the words printed on its surface.
Professional Bow Maker
...buh?
Many of you probably don't know this, but my mother was
You know the kind I mean? Big and flowery, many looped and delicate.
She would never let me watch her wrap presents or make those damn bows.
Now I know why!
I laughed, dusted the bow maker off, and put it back on the shelf. I'll most likely never use it, as my own present-wrapping is a rather haphazard affair. Usually done in the wee hours of the morning when I'm half-drunk or hastily slapped together before running out the door. But, I'll keep this thing. And remember.